


Freewheeling and Free Falling

by Raspberries_Heartbeat



Series: Clint Barton: Avenger, Archer extraordinaire, and Father of the year [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoptive Father Clint Barton, Avengers Family, Avengers Movie Night, Awesome Clint Barton, Banter, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Bruce didn't get the memo, Bucky is mentioned - Freeform, Caring Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint has crushes, Confessions, Dancing, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Texting, Embarrassed Clint, Erections, Eventual Romance, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inexperienced Clint, Insecure Clint Barton, IronHawk - Freeform, Kissing, Lily Barton is a national treasure, M/M, No actual smut (sorry), Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter Ships It, Pining, Possessive Tony Stark, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Tony Stark, Romance, Sappy, Science Bros, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Stark Tower, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and Technology, Steve Tony Bromance, Swearing, Talking about feelings because that's important, Team as Family, Teasing, Tom Holland is my spiderman, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is sexy af, Tony can't dance, Tony is a flirt, aerial dancing, thinking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-20 19:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15541488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberries_Heartbeat/pseuds/Raspberries_Heartbeat
Summary: Or: Five times Clint Barton almost kissed Tony Stark, and the one time Tony Stark beat him to it.**Can be read as a stand-alone. All you need to know is that Clint has a 10-year-old adoptive daughter named Lily and that he has a major crush on Tony.Also: Canon? What Canon?





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for the title (and the fic in general) is taken from Passenger's song 'Everything' and Jeremy Renner's instagram page.
> 
> This work is closely connected with a lovely Steve/Bucky series by a dear friend of mine, check it out:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/series/1029186
> 
> Also shout out to her in general, for being awesome and supportive throughout my writing process!

“Alright, and if there is any problem you-“

“Call you immediately, yes.”

“And your aunt-“

“Will bring Lily back by nine. Honestly, Mr. Barton, we’ll be alright.”

Clint eyed the teenager and his daughter warily. He and Lily were already staying for two weeks at the Stark Tower and things were going fantastic. Lily was getting along great with everybody, and when she met Peter for the first time, those two clicked immediately. Naturally, that held a great potential for trouble. But Lily was so happy about having a big brother figure in her life and Clint was so happy about Lily being happy, that these consequences didn’t enter his mind. Not until now, anyway.

Now, Lily had partially pestered Clint to let her go to Peter’s place, to built some lego thing (the archer didn’t even bother to ask) with him and one of his friends.

In a fit of fatherly generosity, Clint had agreed.

Peter was a good kid. Tony cared about him a whole lot, so he must be a fantastic kid. But…

“You’re being overprotective” Nat sing-songed from the couch, already throwing popcorn into her mouth.

“Am not!” Clint retorted, very maturely.

She might have a point, tho. Even he had to admit when he was being completely honest with himself, that this protective attitude was a little dumb.

Peter was _Spiderman_ , for fuck’s sake.

But.

 

He turned to his daughter.

“Lily, if you want to be picked up earlier, just-“

“Daaaad!” Lily whined wholeheartedly. “I’m not a baby” As an afterthought, she added in an annoyed whisper. “Stop ‘mbarrasing me.”

Huh. So now he was suddenly an uncool parent.

He might actually be offended about that. Because he was like _super_ -cool. Just as he was about to argue this point (which, in retro perspective wouldn’t really have helped his argument), Tony strode behind him- all life of the party movie night confidence- placed an arm around Clint’s shoulder and turned him away from the door.

“Don’t sweat it, Birdie. You two have fun and skedaddle as Capsicle would say-“

“I never said such a phrase in my entire life.”

 

“Tony!” Clint protested, as he was pushed towards the general direction of the couch.

“Hush. Off you go! Oh, and kid?”

“Yes, Mister Stark?”

“If anything happens to this little lady, you’re never seeing your suit again”

“…. Understood, sir.” They were out the door, before anymore threats could be made.

 

Nat groaned and threw a can of soda towards Clint’s head, which he caught swiftly. “When she starts dating, you two will be an absolute nightmare!”

Clint really wanted to argue this point- because, you know, he was a _super_ -cool parent and all that- but was distracted by the implication that the statement made about his and Tony’s relationship. He flushed slightly. Ever since that one evening, he nursed his (tiny, insignificant) crush on Tony very carefully.

It wasn’t like he would ever _do_ something about it.

That just wasn’t… yeah, it just wasn’t.

 

“What are we even watching?” he asked to distract from himself.

“Hunger Games.” Bruce commented off-handedly, nose still half-buried in a book.

“So, Cap finally gets the Katniss-reference!”

Clint felt himself flush some more. He looked over at Nat, who threw a vicious grin in his direction. “Don’t you dare” he mouthed. The spy pointed at herself and made the most innocent doe-eyes she could muster. Yeah, Clint was so dead.

Alright, so he might have a little celebrity crush on Josh Hutcherson. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, a lot of grown men in their thirties- okay, it was embarrassing. It didn’t help matters that Tony was calling him Katniss all the time.  And Nat knew because Nat knew _everything_ …. Almost everything.

He wasted a thought to appreciate the very rom-com-esque twist of watching a movie with his celebrity crush in it, with his real-life crush. When did he turn into a high school girl?

 

“Does anyone else notice that the Gale-guy looks like Thor?” Bruce munched on a nacho thoughtfully.

“He could be like his super-hot actor brother. I wouldn’t mind saving the world from his kind of mischief.” It was about time Tony finally made a sexualized comment, considering the movie was close to its end.

Steve groaned and threw Tony’s feet off his lap (because Tony had the habit of sitting on the people, rather than on the couch).

“Oh c’mon, Capsicle, don’t be like that!”

Clint tried to turn out their bickering (which was rather difficult, since he was sitting on Tony’s other side) and tried not to feel jealous about their relationship. It was stupid. It wasn’t like they were dating- but even if they were, it wasn’t like it concerned Clint in any way. Just… seeing them in this domestic environment really showed that they cared for each other a lot, and that there was a special bond between them, and somehow only watching them bicker freely, while Tony wrestled his feet back onto Steve’s thighs (and Steve _let him_ ) made Clint’s stomach turn uneasily.

Which was stupid. He had no right to feel jealous. He twisted his hands into fists, and stubbornly tried to focus on the movie.

 

He was so occupied with appearing to be nonchalant, that he let out a very unmanly squeak when Tony’s head connected with his upper leg out of the blue.

“Katniss help me here!”

Clint stared down at the engineer’s head, which was now laying _on his lap_ , unable to process how it could have possibly ended up there. Tony was looking at him with that playful twinkle in his eyes and-wow Clint would like to kiss that smirk right off his face.

…

Woah, hold on.

 

“What?” he pressed out, while he tried to not seize up and throw Tony off of him in the process. His hands were hanging stiffly at his sides.

The engineer gestured towards the T.V. “Liam Hemsworth, super-hot Australian men meat?”

“You’re being offensive!” Steve pinched Tony’s ankle and received a half-hearted kick in return.

 

Clint stared at Tony like he had just grown a second head. The sudden thought of kissing the insufferable bastard had thrown him completely out of this conversation.

“Clint likes Peeta better!” Nat provided, not very helpfully.

That kicked Clint out of his haze, at last. He wiped his head around, giving her a dirty glare. She just blew him a kiss. That woman was mischief in person.

 

Tony blinked. Clint could practically see his stupid eyelashes flutter due to their close proximity. “Our Katniss like Peeta. C’mon now, are you making this up?” He started cackling. “This is too perfect to be true!”

Nat actually reached across the sulky archer to give Tony a high-five.

Clint was going to leave the fucking planet. Off to live with Thor. Those people here were just too obnoxious.

“Shut up.”

It was a futile request. For one, Tony Stark _never_ shut up.

 

“Aww, you’re blushing”

“I’m _not_ blushing!”

“I mean, you totally are-“

“ _Thank you_ for your input, Nat.”

“Guys, let Clint have his celebrity crush in peace.”

“You think you’re helping, Bruce, but you’re really not!”

“Alright, kids, leave the man alone.”

“But Caaaaaap-“

“Shut your trap, Tony.”

 

Steve Rogers might be the only person to ever successfully shut Tony Stark up (Clint tried to not be jealous about that, too), but the engineer stayed firmly planted on Clint’s lap (the warmth that was radiating from him was _very_ distracting, and Clint could smell his fucking expensive sandalwood shampoo) and grinned _like that_ whenever Peeta entered the scene. He even pocked Clint’s cheek and cooed at some point.

‘Alright, I have some dignity left,’ Clint thought, and stood up, making Tony’s head fall on the couch.

“Ow! Did you see that?”

“Had it coming!”

 

Clint didn’t even dignify that with an answer and stomped towards the kitchen island instead. The movie was over anyway, it Lily would be home any minute.

He froze when something- or rather, some _one_ \- circled his waist when he was just pouring himself a glass of water. He turned, annoyed rant already on his lips, when he found that he wasn’t staring into Nat’s face like he had anticipated, but Tony’s. The billionaire was holding him firmly against himself and planted his chin on Clint’s shoulder.

“You’re grumpy. Stop being grumpy!”

The archer’s brain flatlined for a brief moment, and a voice in the back of his mind screamed hysterically about kissing, but Clint pulled himself together.

“No.” He answered curtly and turned, hoping (but not really trying) to throw Tony off like that.

 

No such luck.

Tony pulled him a little closer.

“T’was just a little teasing. Lighten up, Katniss.” They were so fucking close that Clint could feel Tony’s warm breath when he spoke. He suppressed a shiver and tried to act like this… this… whatever it was that Tony was doing wasn’t affecting him at all.

“You can crush on whoever you like (Clint groaned)” Then, the engineer lean in very close to Clint’s ear and almost whispered “Even on me.”

Clint froze (and mentally cursed himself).

If Tony knew, he was fucked. He would never hear the end of it.

 

Tony felt his shift and looked at him, raising his eyebrows. Clint returned the gaze-unable to look away- and felt his treacherous body heating up. Clint thought he saw something soft spark in Tony’s eyes, but that must have been just a trick of the light. Tony was just flirting. Tony was flirting with _everyone_. It didn’t… mean anything…

The elevator doors opened with a ‘ding’.

That was close.

 

Clint made an attempt to go to the elevator, to greet Peter and his daughter, but an extra weight on his back stopped him.

“Detach. Yourself.”

“Nope!” Clint could feel the grin. He groaned and waddled to the elevator, with Tony right behind him.

Clint didn’t even want to image what a picture they were making right now. He also tried to ignore the way is just felt… nice to be held like that. Nobody ever held him like that. Experiencing it now made him realize what he had been missing (and made his mind wander to the _other_ things Tony could potentially do to him that he had been missing out on).

“Hey, dad! We-“ she stopped. “Why’s Tony clinging to you?”

“Excellent question.”

“Because your father is being no fun.”

 

Something deep inside of Clint’s gut pulled pleasantly when Tony referred to him with this title. Like it was something to be proud of. Like he was someone special.

 

“Do I have to get that or…?”

 

“Don’t bother, Светляк (Ru: Firefly)! C’mere, I was just graving an ice-cream sandwich.”

 

Clint wasted a split second to think of a lecture why ice-cream wasn’t a good idea at this time of the night, but he just knew that neither Nat, nor Lily would bother to listen to him.

 

“And, I’m off, food’s calling!” Clint was surprised, that before he let go of him, Tony squeezed his waist gently, making Clint feel all mushy. He wouldn’t admit to himself that he was already missing Tony’s warmth.

 

“Good job, Pete!”

 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

 

 

Only then, Clint realized that the teenager was still standing by the elevator, looking kind of sheepish, but strangely determined.

 

“Yeah, thanks for taking care of her.”

 

“Pleasure, Mr. Barton. Uhm… there’s something else I’d like to discuss real quick.” Peter eyed Tony at the kitchen counter, but the engineer was already busy with letting Lily in on the secret of the perfect ice-cream to cookie ratio.

 

Clint lend against the elevator doors casually. “Sure.”

 

“Listen, you and Mr. Stark (at that, Clint felt himself flush _again_ ) it’s really cool and everything, but-“

 

“Hold up. What do you mean ‘it’s cool’?”

 

“Well” Here, Peter played with his hands, being the perfect picture of the awkward 16-year-old that he was, but met Clint’s gaze steady. “That you’re _dating_ -“

 

Clint lost his balance. Peter continued, unfazed.

 

“And I don’t doubt you mean well, but I don’t want my mentor getting hurt. And-“

 

“We’re not dating!”

 

Peter stopped his monologue, to give Clint a look. “You’re…not?” He didn’t sound convinced at all. The question sounded a lot like ‘You sure about that?’.

 

Why was everyone against him today?

 

“Nooooo” That definitely was not a whine. “Where did you even get the idea from?” Clint’s bets were on Nat.

 

Peter scratched his neck, now clearly embarrassed with this conversation.

 

“You just… seem like it,” he mumbled. “But… but just in case (That’s it, Clint was going to faint just to get out of this mess) be-“ Peter searched for the right words, eyes flickering to Tony again-“be good to him.”

 

If he wouldn’t have been about to spontaneously detonate, Clint would have taken a moment to appreciate the sweetness and genuine concern of Peter’s request. It was heart-warming to know that the young man cared for his mentor in such a great fashion, and it was evident that Tony felt the same way.

 

 

That being said, Clint wasn’t exactly sure how he could comprehend getting a shovel-talk from a fucking high school student for a relationship he _didn’t even have_.

 

He patted Peter on the shoulder, mentally erasing himself from the planet.

“Thanks, kid. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Involuntarily, his eyes wandered to Tony again, who gave him an ice-creamy grin.

 

 

Oh boy, wasn’t he screwed.

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I gave Lily a cool hobby :D For real, check it out on Youtube, it is SO cool.

“Good, good; now c’mon, climb up!”

 

Lily gave her silky ropes an experimental swing, and laughed with glee when she swung easily, and then proceeded to climb them with practiced ease. Clint watched her from his own position, already casually dangling several feet above the ground, his own ropes securely wrapped around his arms and legs.

 

When Clint stopped being a hysterical parent from time to time, he and his daughter liked to spend some quality bonding time with unconventional athletic activities.

 

 

Lily did tell him that she had started practicing aerial dancing while she stayed at the circus, and -despite of all the implications of how wrong it was to exploit a child like that- Clint was happy that he was able to support her with this skillset.

 

Having spent a decade of his life under a circus tent, Clint pretty much acquired every skill that either involved archery or being high up in the air.

He liked aerial dancing, even though it clashed with his usual preferred way of clear-cut, precise movement. Dancing only secured by silk ropes equally encompassed strength and fluidity with a certain grace- the cat-like quality of it has proven itself useful time and time again for his work as an agent and as an Avenger.

 

They hadn’t much time to train while they were at SHIELD, the gym there had been usually too crowded to squeeze in long enough to really practice.

The Tower’s gym however was _huge_.

Lily had asked Tony if it would be possible to build in some ropes.

The next day, a whole section of the gym looked like it was dedicated solely for aerial dancing.

Tony was spoiling Lily rotten, Clint was well aware, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad about it.

 

 

Considering it was the first time they ever really gotten to work over half an hour, they dedicated their session solely on revisiting all the basic figures. Lily- being the lanky kid that she is- was _excellent_ in applying the perfect balance of strength and yielding to make the fabric work _for_ her.

Just like her father, she felt the most at ease up in the air, freed from the constraints of gravity.

Her whole being, when using these ropes like they were a swing set so _effortlessly_ , reminded Clint of a bird.

 

It was one of these surreal moments where the whole impact of the significance of raising another human being crashed down on Clint with full force.

Because Lily was _good_ , Lily was really everything that was _alright_ in his life.

Things hadn’t been easy for her, the first decade of her life had thrown so much shit at her, but here she was. Being a brilliant ray of sunshine. Being _the sun_.

 

There were still disagreements, and tough nights, and things she kept from him- it really wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine- but they made it work. They were both excellent in dancing through the clouds and the thunderstorms. They were strong together.

 

 

“Hey,” he called out before he could stop himself, “you know I love you, right?”

 

Lily stopped her rotation at the quiver in his voice. She wasn’t the only one who had troubles and worries and anxieties sometimes. She was well aware that Clint had them, too. He never said it, he never burdened his problems on her shoulders, but she knew.

Sometimes, all she needed was to look at him, and she knew.

 

“Me too, Dad.”

 

Clint had to pull himself together to not get all emotional while he was dangling high up in the air.

 

 

 

Luckily, Bruce and Tony choose the exact moment to stroll into the gym (a rare sight, both science bros in such an un-science-y environment), which killed the vibe for Clint’s plan to bawl like a baby about the beauty of parenting while climbing along a rope.

 

 

“Lily! We’re getting started in 15 minutes!”

 

Bruce had taken it onto himself to provide for Lily’s education for the time being.

 

Clint knew it was just a temporary arrangement and that they had to broach the subject of sending Lily to a real school at some point in the future, but for the given moment he was incredibly grateful for Bruce’s generosity.

Giving Lily the opportunity to learn in a way that met her hunger and curiosity for knowledge was something that Clint didn’t achieve on his own.

He was a school drop-out. His academic skillset hardly expanded beyond that of a 5th-grader. He was _stupid_.

But Lily wasn’t.

 

 

“’kay ‘kay!”

 

“You wanna walk through all the figures one last time?”

 

Lily nodded eagerly, already twisting and un-twisting her ropes around her ankles. Their eyes met for a split second, and she gave him a smile that was worth more than a thousand words.

 

 

Clint felt the scientists’ eyes on his back while they finished their training. To be honest, he didn’t know why Tony accompanied Bruce to the gym and he had a suspicion that there wasn’t really a reasonable motivation whatsoever. Ever since that movie night at the beginning of the week, Tony had brought up all kinds of excuses to be near the archer.

 

It really should bother Clint.

It really didn’t.

At least, not in the way that it _should_ bother him.

 

Ever since Peter’s comment, Clint couldn’t get the idea of _dating_ Tony out of his head. This wasn’t about nursing an innocent crush anymore. He found himself craving the _real_ thing, the thing he really really shouldn’t crave.

 

There was no way in hell he would ever date Tony Stark.

There was no way in hell that Tony Stark would ever _want_ to date _him_.

 

Yet, whenever the engineer just suddenly appeared in his personal space, Clint got his hopes up.

Which he shouldn’t. Those kinds of hopes weren’t designed for people like him. Tony liked flirting. He reacted to that flirting. So, Tony continued with it. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

 

 

Lily glided down the ropes and came to a perfect halt in front of Bruce, already starting to babble the scientists’ ears off about the things she wanted to learn today.

Bruce Banner, having the patience of a saint, listened intently, while signing Clint (Clint didn’t know when the whole team decided to learn sign language for him, but he was touched) that they’d be finished in time for dinner.

 

Clint, still dangling on his ropes, poked Lily in the shoulder.

“Good work today, honey. I’m proud!”

 

It was one of Clint’s silent aims (because he would be damned if he would ever have to admit this level of vulnerability) to give Lily everything that he had longed for as a child. He never in his entire life experienced any form of unconditional approval and the feeling of making people proud. He was a lost cause (he was pretty damn sure that this level of affection wasn’t something he as a person would or should receive), so he smothered Lily in about as much parental approval as she could take.

 

 

His daughter flashed him her signature grin and poked him in the nose. “I’m learning from the best!”

 

The desire to bawl out a tirade of fatherly affection was strong, but Clint contained himself in the last moment, and just replied: “I’m making mac-and-cheese for dinner.”

 

Because really, was there a better way to say ‘I’m so damn happy to have you’ than through cheesy pasta?

Not in Lily’s book, at least.

 

 

Clint swung thoughtfully as he watched them leave and pretended not to notice that Tony was still there, leaning against the wall (a poor attempt of looking casual).

It felt nice, being watched like that. Like, you know, like he was something to look at.

 

In the circus, Clint had attracted his fair share of admirers; people that gorged themselves on his looks and movements during a show. He was a fantasy, a mysterious being that was admired because of its strange beauty.

 

But he wasn’t that persona now. He was just good old Clint, dangling around in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

Still Tony’s eyes were on him and that made him feel… good about himself?

 

He wasn’t insecure. He knew he was nice to look at from a certain angle, but he also knew all the imperfections and errors that could be noticed up close. It wasn’t like he was broken. It was just that he had taken a rough bending all his life, and it showed once you bothered to really take a look.

 

 

 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Tony finally said. Clint turned his head slowly, he did zone out a bit. Whenever he was defying gravity in any way, his head felt light and airy. Intoxicated.

 

“Well, aren’t I full of surprises?” Clint grinned a bit. He was still kinda peeved about the teasing from movie night- but more at himself, than at Tony, really. After all, his silly crush(es) were the reason it had been awkward in the first place.

 

Tony just looked at him, and there was something intense about his expression and- Clint was sure- a flash of that softness he had seen before. It was just then he realized that they hadn’t really been alone since that evening, and now they _were_.

 

 

His traitorous heartrate picked up a notch and he could feel the heat rushing to his face. To cover it up, the archer quickly did half a roll, so he was hanging upside down on his ropes.

 

He only had a second to realize just how _close_ Tony was, before the engineer poked his arm, making him swing a bit. He was still high enough that their heads were practically on the same level.

 

“I like this, it’s a becoming look on you,” the billionaire touched a loose patch of rope casually, “All tied up.”

 

He grinned with a little hint of something at the edges that sent Clint’s mind absolutely _reeling_ from inappropriate images.

 

Tony Stark was flirting with him again. Without an audience. It was easy to believe that this time it wasn’t just some kind of show Tony put on.

Still, Clint knew better. Him and Tony, that just wasn’t happening. It could never work.

 

 

 

Still, if he could just… swing the right way and grab Tony’s head, then they would be kissing. Involuntarily, Clint remembered how nice it had been to have Tony’s body press up to his, and he could only imagine how those lips would feel.

 

There was a challenge in Tony’s smile, and in a heat of the moment decision, Clint started to sway and-

 

 

Tony’s phone went off.

 

“Sorry, I gotta take this. Hello Pep… yes I’m on my way… yes, yes stop shouting-“

 

And, he was gone.

 

 

Which left Clint, dangling upside down like a fucking idiot, feeling _mortified_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Ant-Man and the Wasp today. Really enjoyed it! Had a few laughs. Good times.
> 
> Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks are love <3


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, whoop!
> 
> This one has all the Tony feels, so get ready

After he almost lost all of his dignity over a stupid, embarrassing kissing-maneuver, Clint became more careful around Tony.

 

There was no way in hell that he would risk their friendship over an immature crush and a few suggestive remarks.

 

Especially after it became painfully clear how much Tony actually _needed_ it.

 

It was one of those missions with no clear agenda and a lot of damage. These were the most frustrating ones in many ways, because they didn’t even offer a reason for the chaos that was created. It was just chaos for the sake of it.

 

Many civilians had been scared, had gotten hurt, some of them died.

 

The Avengers were quiet on their way back to the Tower. Tony went off alone in his suit, right after the cleared up the final remains of the damage.

Clint couldn’t help but feel worried. Tony hadn’t spoken to anyone and turned his intercom off. He felt like the billionaire wasn’t coping well and he really, really wanted to help his friend.

 

 

When they arrived at the Tower, Tony was nowhere to be seen. Clint figured that he needed some time to cool off on his own, they all did. However, it still didn’t sit right with him.

But he wasn’t one to pry into a friend’s personal affairs, so he tried shaking it off and spend the rest of the evening lazing around the communal space, watching bad reality shows with Lily. His daughter had an uncanny ability to sense when he was worried, and attempted to soothe him by cuddling up to him more than usual. Clint accepted the gesture gladly, feeling his strained nerves soften around the edges.

 

After he tucked Lily in, there was still no trace of Tony. The uneasiness rocked up a notch, especially now that his distraction was gone.

 

 

He wandered to the communal kitchen with an itching in his limbs, feeling agitated and useless. In the kitchen, he encountered Steve, who was sipping some orange juice.

Clint didn’t hesitate a heartbeat.

 

“Where’s Tony?” Steve flinched a little at being addressed, he must have been deep in his thoughts.

 

“Workshop, probably. Slaving himself to the point of exhaustion. Or drinking himself to the point of passing out.”

 

Clint frowned. That sounded much too much like a ‘normal’ occurrence for his liking. The super-soldier didn’t miss his expression and sighed.

 

“He gets worked up easily his coping techniques are...” Steve trailed off, obviously unsure of how to complete the sentence with a nicer word than ‘self-destructive’. Clint knew that Tony was affected by most things, far more than he let on. However, he didn’t know it was that _bad_.

 

 

Something about the way Steve was talking about this made Clint angry.

Steve and Tony were best friends.

What kind of best friend did allow such awful behavior? Steve should be with Tony and help him. But he wasn’t helping him. Why wasn’t he doing _anything_?

 

 

One look into his teammate’s face gave him the answer. Steve looked utterly _exhausted_. He was fidgeting his hands in a nervous fashion, like he was worried about things he didn’t talk about. Clint didn’t know much about the whole thing with Bucky, but he knew that Steve was involved and worked himself to the bone trying to please everyone. Bucky. Tony. The team. At this moment, sitting on a breakfast-stool, clutching a glass of orange juice, the great Captain America looked defeated.

Clint softened instantly, feeling bad for thinking so negatively about Steve. It wasn’t fair. He knew Steve tried the hardest out of all of them.

 

 

“You should give it a go,” Steve said slowly, his words soft in the quiet kitchen, “Maybe he’ll listen to you. I know he doesn’t to me. Can’t force the damn shellhead to do anything.”

Steve only cussed on occasions he deemed it necessary, and Clint felt even more shitty for believing that Steve didn’t care about Tony.

 

“I could give it a try,” he replied, his own voice equally soft.

 

Steve’s tired eyes met his, just for a second. “Please,” then, after a moment of consideration, “You’re good for him.” Clint felt himself flush instantly.

 

Steve probably didn’t even indicate anything remotely romantic with his statement, but Clint just couldn’t help but think back to the almost-kiss.

He cleared his throat noisily and looked away, hoping that his friend wouldn’t notice.

 

 

Steve just continued looking at the juice with a blank stare. “Have never seen him sober for so long before.”

 

Tony’s on/off alcoholism wasn’t really a secret, but rather a gigantic elephant in the room. Everybody- including Tony himself- knew that he crossed the line between drinking and abuse frequently. Clint didn’t know much about addictions. But he knew, now that he thought about it, that Steve was right. Ever since he moved in with Lily, he hadn’t seen Tony even touch an alcoholic beverage. He had thought that he had just been unobservant. Maybe he hadn’t.

Maybe it was something that Tony did just for him, for Lily.

 

The archer tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. He gave Steve a weak smile. Steve smiled back.

 

“Are you alright, Steve?”

The question hung in the air between them.

 

“No.”

 

Clint knew, he just did, that it was something about Bucky, something that Steve wouldn’t want to share.

Nevertheless, he placed a warm hand on Steve’s broad shoulder. He wanted to be a good friend for Steve. Steve deserved a good friend.

 

“I’m here, if you need someone.”

 

Steve eyed the hand gratefully, sighed again, wiped his hand over his face, and gave Clint a slightly bigger smile.

“Thanks. I’m not okay right now, but I will be,” Then, with an attempt to use his Captain-voice, he added, “Now go and get Tony out of his head.”

 

 

Clint had never been at the workshop without invitation. The place humbled and wowed him, it was a space of genius and creation, things that astonished him, like a child.

However today, the workshop was in chaos and disarray like its owner. The music was too loud, there were tools messily laying around, and their master looked like he was seconds away from a meltdown.

 

The archer’s heart clenched.

 

“Jarvis, could you turn out the music?”

 

 

The sudden silence startled Tony. “Jarvis, what the hell-“ He stopped when he saw Clint standing in the doorway.

Something flickered across his face, before he turned his back to the door, resuming his work on something that looked like gloves.

 

 

“You can tell Steve I’m fine. Still conscious, sober, and breathing. Fucking mothering over me like I’m some kind of-“

 

“Steve just worries. I worry, too.”

 

Tony gave him a gloomy starve over his shoulder.

 

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

The engineer groaned, “I thought you were on my side, Katniss.”

 

He resumed on fumbling at the surface of the gloves with his screw-driver, but his hands were shaking so bad that he slipped continuously. Clint watched him with a growing sense of worry, until Tony let out a small bark, and threw the screwdriver against a wall.

 

His whole body was shaking now and he just buried his head in his hands for a second.

Clint knew from Steve’s very annoyed chiding at the beginning of the mission, that Tony hadn’t eaten or slept in the last 48 hours. His body was showing clear signs of the maltreatment, shaking like a leaf and refusing to continue at Tony’s merciless pace.

 

 

“Just leave me alone,” he mumbled in his hands. His voice was muffled and filled with a certain edge.

“’m making gloves. Lily said she wanted better gloves for the rope thing. I need to finish those.”

 

 

Clint was awoken from his shocked numbness and was at Tony’s chair in a heartbeat. Hesitantly, he took one of the trembling hands, pulling it away from his friend’s face. Tony looked like he was utterly lost, and a strong emotion forced itself into the archer’s mind.

 

 

“You can finish them tomorrow. You need to rest now,” he used his best parent voice, which he hoped held the perfect mixture of firm and gentle.

 

Tony however, was stubborn. “Go. I’m fine.”

 

“I won’t. Because you’re not.”

 

 

Suddenly, Tony got angry, shoving the hand away roughly. There was a whirlwind of emotions displaying on his face. Clint was prepared for these swings; Tony wasn’t an easy person at the best of days. On his worst, you always had to be on your toes; his emotions were scrambled and all over the place.

 

 

“Why don’t you fucking see that this is important to me?! Just because you _allow_ yourself to rest after this fucking disaster of a mission, doesn’t mean I have to! Just because you won’t _prove_ that you are useful doesn’t mean that I-“

 

 

“None of the things that happened today were your fault. Shit like that happens. People get hurt, people die. It’s terrible, but it’s true. Stop punishing yourself for crimes you didn’t commit.”

 

 

The engineer stared at him like he had grown a second head. His eyebrows were drawn together in disbelieve and his mouth was already half-open for a counter-argument.

However, Clint wasn’t having _any_ _more_ of this self-degrading shit. 

 

 

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tones. You saved so many people today. You did all you could.”

 

 

Tony flushed momentarily at the praise and turned his head away, in embarrassment. He pursed his lips.

 

 

“It wasn’t enough,” his voice held a desperate tone that Clint didn’t recognize, “why does nobody understand that it’s _never_ _enough_?”

 

He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to compose himself, to get his guard back up. But all his defenses were down, and he sat before Clint; open, and vulnerable, and _raw_.

The moment held something beautiful, and something utterly terrifying.

 

 

“You did good. You always do good, because you are always _trying_. Isn’t that enough?”

 

Instead of an answer, Tony closed the distance between them in a bone-crushing hug. The way he clung to Clint’s back like he was drowning broke the archer’s heart. Right in this moment, Tony Stark had nothing to do with the arrogant, cold-hearted businessman people saw in him.

 

He patted Tony’s shaking back. “There, there,” he murmured gently, “it’s alright.”

 

 

 

“Almost relapsed today,” Tony’s voice was an almost inaudible whisper against Clint’s neck. The words ghosted over his skin in a warm breath. Their implication stung like a slap in the face.

 

“Don’t want to drink anymore. Don’t know if I’m strong enough to quit.”

 

The archer tightened his hold around Tony’s waist. The tremors increased. Something about Tony was so fragile in that very moment, Clint worried that his friend would break, if he would let go now.

 

 

“Clint.”

 

Tony never used real names. It was part of the deal, part of the armor. No real names, no real feelings. Humor and distance- Tony Stark’s strongest defenses against becoming attached. Against letting anyone near. Close enough to see.

But Clint was seeing right now.

 

The side of Tony he had kept so carefully hidden. Now it was exposed to the light, the harsh light of acknowledgement. ‘They can pretend all day that everything was fine,’ Clint thought to himself. ‘Steve can stop trying, the whole team can look away. But I can’t. And I won’t.’

 

“I‘m terrified.”

 

Something inside of Clint broke into a million little pieces. Tony sounded small. So, so small. He needed someone to help him in this time of need. Tony worked himself to the goddamn bone for everyone around him but let nobody help him. Tony with his pride and the low-key self-loathing, Tony with his fucking insecurities, and pains. Tony with all the things nobody knew and all the things Clint heard in that one little sentence.

 

“I know, but I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out.”

 

 

Half an hour later, Clint managed to coax the reluctant engineer onto the couch in his floor’s living-room, wrapped into about ten blankets, because by the time Tony had been cooperative enough to let go of Clint, his skin was ice-cold.

 

The shuffling must have woken Lily, who appeared at the doorway shortly after.

 

“Dad?” she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

 

“Hey, honey,” Clint kneeled in front of her, like he sometimes did, when he wanted to tell her something important. And this, this was very important.

“Tony’s a little upset tonight. So, he’s staying here.”

 

Lily nodded a little, her expression now solemn and somehow so… mature.

“It’s not nice to be alone when you’re sad.”

 

Clint gave her a sad smile, wishing that she wouldn’t know about these things. She was so young. Too young to understand.

 

“That’s right, clever girl.”

 

Lily looked past her father to the couch.

 

“Can I say goodnight to Tony?”

 

The archer hesitated a moment. “I’m sure he would be happy if you did.”

 

 

When Clint returned from the kitchen to the living-room around ten minutes later (he figured Tony needed something in his stomach before falling asleep, and hot coco was more nutritious than tea or water), he was greeted by a heart-warming sight.

 

Lily didn’t just ‘say goodnight’ to Tony. She was sitting on the soft rug in front of the sofa, back leaning near Tony’s head, with a book cropped up on her knees, reading in soft, hushed tones. Clint recognized the book as one out of their ‘nightmare-emergency’-stack, and Lily’s stuffed lion resting in Tony’s arms.

Whenever Lily was upset or had a nightmare, this was their ritual. There was only one rule for nights like these: Nobody should go to sleep sad. This is why they read stories to keep the mind busy with other things. This is why they got lion, to give a sense of safety even after going to bed.

 

 

Seeing Lily apply all those things- their personal, intimate, important things- to help Tony, touched Clint in a way that he had never been touched before. Everything about the scene was radiating so much love- from the way Lily held the book close enough for Tony to read along, to the small smile on the engineer’s face- that Clint felt overwhelmed by it, just for a second.

He had rarely seen something so beautiful.

 

Instead of breaking the magic, he carefully joined it; placing the beverage at the coffee table and taking a seat next to Lily, at the other side of Tony’s head. He leaned his head against the leather of the couch, closed his eyes, and let the soft voice of his daughter wash over him. He knew all the words by heart, mouthed some of them quietly, lovingly. They were close enough that Clint could pick up Tony’s breathing pattern and smell the motor oil on his skin.

The archer opened one of his eyes, just for a moment, and saw that Tony was no longer looking at the book, but at him.

 

There was the softness to his features, and so much gratefulness. They were so close.

It would be easy to just close the distance.

 

A small kiss against his cheek. His temple. The corner of his mouth.

It would be so easy. Almost as easy as breathing.

 

But he wouldn’t.

Not when Tony was vulnerable like this. Not when Tony wouldn’t have the heart to say no. It wasn’t right, taking advantage of his friend like that.

 

So, he just smiled gently, hoping he could convey everything a kiss could with the gesture.

 

It was the first time he thought about kissing Tony without a selfish motive. Instead, he wanted to offer a source of comfort, a grounding force for Tony’s spiraling thoughts. An anchor and a promise that everything would be alright.

 

 

It was the moment when Clint realized he didn’t just have a crush on Tony anymore.

 

It was the moment when he realized that he was in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really doing this weekly upload thing, I'm proud of myself.
> 
> As always, keep those bookmarks, comments and kudos coming, they make my day <3


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all get ready for some sappy-ness

Clint was standing in front of the closed workshop-door and debated if he should just leave again.

 

After that evening when he suddenly realized what all this Tony-business was about, he stayed awake all night, trying and failing to talk himself out of it.

 

A crush was simple. A crush was fleeting. And short. How was he supposed to fall out of love with Tony now that he had acknowledged his feelings? He wasn’t good with this stuff, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been in love (if that ever happened before) and he had no idea how to make it stop.

Surely, he wouldn’t humiliate himself and try to act on it and then get rejected because ‘that’s cute, but I’m a super-rich and sinfully handsome genius, Katniss, and you’re just you’.

 

No, thank you very much.

 

But… that wasn’t really… what Tony was like, was it? There must be a reason why he kept looking at Clint all soft whenever he did something nice for him. He didn’t look at other people like that, not even Steve. Maybe he should…

 

… bang his head against the wall until this _nonsense_ would stop!

 

Tony _wasn’t_ in love with him. Tony would _never_ be. He was just being nice after Clint had been a good friend.

 

When he had walked into his living room that morning, Tony had already left again. Later that day- after Clint had been mopping around uselessly for several hours- the engineer had appeared out of nowhere, being practically ecstatic while telling Clint that he had just started a therapy because of his alcohol problem.

Clint was very, very proud of him. Which was a weird thing to be because… Tony was a grown-ass man and certainly didn’t need that kind of approval, especially not from him but still… he was proud.

 

Tony insisted on taking him out for lunch. Clint didn’t get a word in to protest, and once they were already sitting in this nice Italian place, he figured it would be kind of dump to decline when they were already _there_.

It was easy, making conversation with Tony. He was charismatic and smart and down-right hilarious when he wanted to be. The archer felt himself captivated by the intense attention Tony focused on him, making him feel so special and so _good_.

It wasn’t a date.

And he pretended only _a little_ bit that it was.

 

Tony would _never_ take him out on a date.

 

When they got back to the tower, Tony had insisted on doing something for Clint in return (buying him lunch apparently didn’t fall under that category). After several minutes of nagging, Clint reluctantly admitted that his hearing aid had been malfunctioning ever since the last mission.

 

 

Which was how he found himself staring at the door to the workshop, unsure of what to do with himself. He wasn’t the kind of guy that asked for favors. He was the kind of guy who got by just fine by himself. Tony had practically bullied him into even admitting that there was a problem.

 

It would be easy to just leave again, and pretend Tony never ‘offered’ (if you could even call it that) to help him.

But.

That would make Tony upset, because Tony was eager to help, because Tony cared. (Maybe. A bit. Definitely not in a romantic way. Shut up.)

 

Oh, curse him and his good heart.

 

Just as he was about to knock, the doors slid open. He threw an accusing look towards the general direction of the ceiling (bad habit, picked up from Steve); Jarvis that little bastard must have been watching him struggle like an idiot the whole time.

 

 

The first thing that greeted Clint was blasting music, loud enough that even he had no problem hearing it with his shitty hearing aids.

 

The date from earlier (which it absolutely wasn’t, stop pretending that it _was_ ) must have left Tony in a merry mood, for it weren’t his usual classic rock tunes that he used to focus, but something catchier, more dancy. Clint didn’t know the song or the artist, but he was fairly certain it was nothing that he had heard Tony listen to before.

 

Now Tony.

At first, Clint didn’t even spot him, he wasn’t crouched over his desk or arms-deep in an engine. He also wasn’t drawing away on a Stark-Pad, looking all smart and important. For a moment, Clint even considered leaving again, thinking that Tony wasn’t even there.

Until he saw something flicker to his right. Turning, there were a lot of things he expected.

 

The sight didn’t meet any of them, but Clint for the love of God couldn’t bring himself to be mad about that. One, Tony wasn’t working. Two, the ‘date’ must have left him in a _fantastic_ mood, because three, Tony was _dancing_.

Hammer in hand, without a care in the world, swaying away adorably out of rhythm.

 

Clint covered his mouth before a chuckle could escape. The dancing was bad. Like, really _really_ bad. But Tony sold it, and he looked so care-free and so happy that Clint forget that he should feel smug about finding the one thing he was better at than Tony Stark.

 

 

Tony’s back was turned to him and he obviously didn’t register his visitor yet, otherwise he wouldn’t be moving his hips like that looking seductive and uncoordinated at the same time. Clint lent against the wall and allowed himself to watch a bit, only a little bit. Tony was an attractive man, Clint thought so even before his… infatuation and that dress-shirt clung to him like a second skin. It wasn’t even one of Tony’s ‘worth-more-than-your-entire-possessions’- kind of shirts, just a light gray cotton button-down, but he made it look so _classy_.

Every ripple of muscle in the man’s back was on display, the tanned skin of his forearms a stark contrast to the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. When he turned his body slightly, Clint caught a glimpse of the engineer’s collarbone, the first few buttons undone in a casual manner. Mesmerized he followed the line of Tony’s neck, to his strong jaw-line. Coming into the territory of the mouth, the archer quickly looked away, feeling his whole body flush hotly. They were team-mates, they had seen each other in states of semi-undress before. Hell, Tony wasn’t even _undressed_. But watching, really watching and not just involuntary glances when changing after a mission, was an action so…personal and so…sexy that Clint knew, he just knew, that getting over this _situation_ would be a hell lot more difficult than he anticipated. Wasn’t it enough that Tony was smart, charming and strong? Why did he have to be attractive, too?

Clint cleared his throat, trying to get Tony’s attention and to drag his mind out of the gutter (willing himself to not have a wank over all of this later in the evening).

 

Although the music was just insanely loud, Tony somehow heard him, because he whipped around, a scandalized expression about being caught plastered all over his face.

They stared at each other for some seconds and it took all of Clint’s will-power to not dissolve into a hysterical laughing fit. How could one person go from sexy to adorable in less than 0.5 seconds?

Clint was half-expecting Tony to bolt (the engineer’s favorite way of getting out of… any situation, really) out of this slightly embarrassing moment.

What he got, however, was a display of another one of Tony’s endless walls breaking down. Everything the billionaire did was about appearance. He would rather eat his own foot than admit that he was bad at anything, it just didn’t fit with his ‘arrogant asshole’ persona.

Now he didn’t need to admit anything because it was blatantly obvious. But Tony didn’t run away.

Quite the contrary, it seems like he was running towards his weakness and embraced it, when he caught Clint’s hand in his (the hammer tumbled to the floor, forgotten) and pulled him to the ‘dancefloor’.

 

Clint had the dignity to only squeak a little bit about the change of events, before he found himself surrounded by Tony. Strong arms circled his waist and he was twirled around in the undoubtedly most awful attempt at close-dancing known to mankind.

Part of him was cackling hysterically about the irony of it all. First dining, then dancing.

 

If he didn’t know any better (which he _did_ , thank you very much) he would say that Tony was trying to woo him.

Ha! (it would be working.)

 

And it still felt so nice to be held like that. It was different than the hug from the evening before. Tony wasn’t clinging to him but holding him with gentle strength. Being this close, he could feel the warmth radiating off Tony’s body and smell that blasted sandalwood shampoo again. He had grown to love this smell, thanks to his traitorous emotions. Clint sank into the comfort of the touch, before he caught himself, heat creeping up his neck, heart suddenly racing in his chest.

There was no way in hell that Tony wouldn’t notice.

Here they were, trying to be really good friends, and his fucking _feelings_ had to make it weird. Seriously, he didn’t even know where he should put his hands, for Christ’s sake!

 

Granted, friends didn’t usually ‘dance’ (if you could call it that) like that, but with Tony you usually got the full packet with zero boundaries and maximal bodily contact.

 

It was all Tony’s fault, Clint decided. Tony was making it extra hard to fall out of love with him.

 

The billionaire chuckled deeply, Clint could feel the vibrations in the other man’s chest. Boy, he was _screwed_.

 

“What’s gotten you all shy?” It were the first words that were spoken since Clint entered the workshop; a pleasant timber shared in the small space between them.

 

Clin swallowed audibly, making sure that eye contact was not happening under any circumstances, and decided to overplay everything with a good portion of snarky humor.

 

“I’m pretty sure I’m in a state of shock, your moves are just _terrible_.”

 

Well. Not his best one, but it would have to do. Tony would just have to take the bait.

 

“Are they now?” Bingo!

 

“You should teach me a thing or two then, Birdie.” …Maybe not.

 

Clint forget his own rule about eye-contact, fully intending to send a glare in Tony’s direction, even he could see that this way cheap (mock…?) flirting. The protest died in his throat. He hadn’t realized before just how… close they were. He could see some sparse gray hairs in Tony’s gotee. He could see the different spots of color in Tony’s eyes. He could see that blasted _softness_ again and he wanted to cry, because really, Tony wasn’t playing fair.

 

“Unless, of course, you don’t have the moves either.” Now. Clint Barton was never one to shy away from a challenge.

 

Was the thing he later told himself to justify the fact that he actually started dancing with Tony in earnest (well, leading Tony while his friend stumbled along would be more accurately), giving him a fucking show.

 

He might have shown off a bit.

 

It wasn’t any day that you could, you know, teach something to a genius ( ~~or dance with the man you’re in love with~~ ).

 

He was twirling Tony around professionally; dipping and swaying, and almost grinding- the music suddenly seemed so much more sexual- and he lost himself in the feeling. The rhythm was taking him; forgotten was the fucking awkwardness and those damn feelings and every bloody thing in-between. It was just them, two bodies, moving together. Tony was a pleasant weight in his arms and he was laughing, the sound rumbling through both of them.

 

‘If only I could keep this moment forever.’ Carefree. Happy. With Tony.

 

When the third song came to an end, he pulled Tony close against his chest. They were both panting, the smell of sweat mingling with something else Clint couldn’t quite identify but found intoxicating. The moment was surreal, here they were and Clint still felt so bloody much and his heart was almost _bursting_.

Tony was wonderful.

This moment was wonderful.

 

It was easy to pretend that Tony was in love with him, too. It was easy, and it absolutely killed him.

 

The engineer was still trying to catch his breath, and lend his forehead against Clint’s, laughing softly, closing his eyes.

 

“Man, I haven’t had this much fun in ages, Katniss!”

 

‘Want to know of a way to make it even _more_ fun?’

 

Before he could stop himself from the fucking stupid idea that popped up in his head, he was already inching forward.

One kiss.

Just one kiss.

 

His breath stuttered in his ribcage, and Tony cracked an eye open as warm breath rushed over his face. They looked at each other for a moment. For a split second, Clint though he saw something sparkle in them, a reckoning, there was no way in hell that Tony didn’t _know_ now. But Clint didn’t care, this moment was wonderful, and he would kiss Tony and Tony would let him, because his eyes were falling closed again and he didn’t _turn away_.

Nervous butterflies erupted din the archer’s stomach, he was feeling slightly nauseous with excitement, his senses were heightened, he picked up every little irregularity in Tony’s breathing -it was like the man was holding his breath in anticipation.

 

Just one kiss.

Maybe they would go back to pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe they wouldn’t have to. Maybe Clint had been wrong, maybe Tony could feel something for him, maybe they could be dating, maybe this could work. Maybe.

Clint was drunk on the moment and drunk on the possibilities, drunk on Tony, and drunk on _being in love_.

Fuck hiding. Fuck denying. Fuck pretending he didn’t care.

 

He wanted to be with Tony. He wanted to be with Tony so fucking bad.

 

Their lips were so close now, Clint could feel Tony’s breath on his skin. This was the moment, it was happening-

 

 

“Tony, I need your help, I think I’ve deleted this google thing-“

 

Steve Rogers, laptop in hand, looked up. Clint and Tony sprang apart like they were burned. Steve looked more smug than a man who thinks he ‘deleted google’ had any right to be. Clint wanted a hole to open up and just swallow him. Not only did Tony know now that he had those stupid feelings, Steve was grinning like the cat who got the fucking canary.

 

“I see you’re rather busy, I’ll come back later.“

 

Why did it have to be Steve fucking Rogers, of all people?!

He’d _never_ hear the end of it.

 

Clint closed his eyes and exhaled through his mouth, trying to find his cool again. He could still smell the faint whiff of Tony’s after-shave.

 

Bugger this.

Bugger _everything_.

 

He had made a complete idiot out of himself, he let his emotions get the better of him. The magic of the moment was broken and he cursed himself for believing in it even a second.

Kissing Tony Stark, what the hell was he thinking?! What happened to the plan to fall out of love? What happened to his dignity?

 

He had thrown himself at Tony at the first opportunity of physical contact and now Tony _knew_ and he. Was. Fucked.

Alright, time to bolt.

 

“Don’t bother,” he said with a calmness that he didn’t feel, “I was leaving anyway.”

 

Without another glance in Tony’s direction, he placed his hearing aids on the nearest workbench (convenient, if one of them had something to say about his brisk exit, he wouldn’t be able to hear it) and stalked out of the workshop in long strides.

 

Only when he was enclosed in the safety of the elevator, he allowed himself to sack against the cool, mirrored wall and let out a shaky sigh.

He should have never let it come that far. He should have never put his emotions on display like that. Tony saw them and could now do with them whatever he wanted, and frankly, that was terrifying.

 

Nobody ever talks about how frightening love could be.

 

And he still wanted to be with Tony so. Fucking. Bad.

 

Damn all this to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I missed the update yesterday, I literarily was dead on my feet. But I'm better now (hurray!).
> 
> You can just imagine any song you'd like, I was thinking Rihanna-esque things, but y'know, whatever your heart desires.
> 
> Comment, Kudos, and Bookmarks make me happy! Thanks for being so supportive and reading the stuff that my little fangirl mind comes up with <3


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In summary, this is all Nat's fault (not that Clint's complaining).

The days that followed were- to put it frankly- a disaster. It started off with Tony leaving off to God knows where on the _very same day_ for a SI meeting thing that lasted _four_ days. Four days where Clint neither saw, nor heard of Tony at all (not counting a small packet with his new and improved hearing aids that somehow ended up on his coffee table on day two); four days where Clint had enough free-time to imagine all the horrifying consequences of his stupidity.

 

He made himself vulnerable in front of one of the most powerful men in America, maybe even the whole world. Tony could _ruin_ him, if he wanted to. But he wasn’t a bad guy.

 

But, maybe even worse, Tony could reject him while feeling sorry for the poor little archer who bit off more than he could chew; because he wasn’t a bad guy. Clint was just pathetic for falling in love with someone almost laughably out of his league.  

 

Hell, Clint didn’t even know for sure that Tony was even into _guys_ (let alone him) or if he was currently proposing to the annoyingly gorgeous Miss Potts. Clint let out a heaving sigh and curled in on himself even more. Stupid. Nobody asked him to present his fucking heart to Tony, but Clint hadn’t been careful and down-right slapped all of his silly emotions right into his friend’s face.

 

He tried to play it off, he really did. For Lily’s sake. For his own. But she knew something was up, and Bruce knew something was up, Steve definitely knew what was up but luckily was off to some solo mission with Nat; even bloody Jarvis seemed to sense something was off.

 

It was a rainy night. He could hear the soft knocking of raindrops against the Tower’s outer walls even in his hiding place in the vents. He had grown into the habit of building small nests in high places for himself, little escape spots for when life got too overwhelming. He held out for the whole four days, but in the night between day four and day five (the day of Tony’s return) he finally gave in  to the urge to bury himself deep in the vents, with pillows and blankets and a bottle of Nat’s finest vodka. Lily was over at Peter’s again, Aunt May enthusiastically suggested a sleepover and Clint didn’t even hesitate to say yes. The total lack of his usual overprotective behavior worried his daughter; and it worried Peter, too. Great, so know fucking _Peter_ knew something was up. Great. Just… awesome.  

 

Maybe he should worry. It was Lily’s first ever sleepover with a friend/big brother figure. The only ‘sleepovers’ she ever had were SHIELD agents babysitting her when he was on a mission. This was different. There was no necessity for this, because he was right here.

He shouldn’t drink. Drinking was a dangerous coping mechanism (ha, the irony of it all) and not the kind of behavior to be expected from a father. What if Lily got scared and wanted to come home? He couldn’t let his daughter see him piss-drunk because of stupid _feelings_. That’d make a bad father.

He probably already was a bad father.

Just another thing that he was failing at.

 

He stopped actually drinking about half an hour ago, calculating that given the amount, he’d guaranteed to be sober again when Lily would be back home. Instead, he was cradling the bottle and drowning in the haziness of his intoxicated brain.

His phone was a warm weight in his hand, where he alternated between reading Lily’s ‘goodnight’ text and aimlessly opening chats, only to close them again. Nat. Tony. Steve. Tony. Open. Close. Open. Typing. Deleting. Close. Nat. Open. Typing.

 

He had to talk with _someone_. And Nat was literarily his better half, Nat was the person who kept him sane for most of his crazy adult life.

And Steve probably filed her in on all the details already, because Steve was a fucking gossip girl who never kept his mouth shut.

 

Clint drew in a sharp breath. Here goes nothing.

 

‘i lik somone’ The letters were blurring together in front of his eyes; he had trouble spelling when he wasn’t pissed, now it seemed like the words were mocking him. Another fail. He couldn’t even write correctly. He couldn’t even read well. He was _stupid_. He was not illiterate but bloody damn close; how could he have the nerve to believe that an actual genius would want to be with such a useless stupid piece of shit like himself? Everyone in his life gave up on him. There’s a reason why a kid turns to the circus. There’s a reason why a kid runs away from home. There’s a reason why he didn’t deserve someone like Tony fucking Stark.

 

Nat’s reply was almost instantaneous.

 

‘You’re drunk.’

 

Clint frowned. That wasn’t the heart of the issue here. Sure, he was drunk. But that wasn’t why he was upset; it was just a reaction to why he was upset. There was no way in hell that he could type a complex sentence like that, not when a three-word-phrase already took him five minutes, five minutes wasted because it was still riddled with mistakes.

Instead, he pushed the conversation farther into the direction of his actual despair.

 

‘he knos  i fucked up’

 

This time, it took Nat a considerably longer time to reply, so much so that it made Clint desperate for a reaction, any reaction. The conversation was moving way too slow for his liking, now that it was actually happening. Nervous energy rumbled in his belly mixed with the alcohol, making him feel nauseous and antsy at the same time.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Fuck all of this.

 

‘its Toni’ he deleted the last part. Re-wrote it. ‘Ton _y_ ’. Couldn’t even get the name right on the first try.

 

Still, no reply from Nat. Deep dread settled over Clint’s heart and squeezed. He didn’t want to be alone with this anymore. He curled himself as deep into the blanket as he could, but not even the soft fabric could calm his erratic heartbeat.

 

‘plese need u’  It sounded every inch as pathetic and needy as he felt, but he _longed_ for the comfort of his best friend.

Another minute passed and he considered throwing the wrenched thing against the wall, when he heard Nat’s voice coming up through the vent’s opening.

 

“Time to come out, маленький брат (Ru: little brother)” 

She was back.

  Half an hour later, they were nestled on Clint’s couch, Clint basically entangled with Nat. They didn’t do that very often. Nat cared. Nat was affectionate in her own way. But she wasn’t one for excessive amounts of human contact. But when Clint needed it, she was there. She always would be there. Her soft murmured Russian calmed the archer’s racing thoughts, to the point where he felt stupid for feeling sorry for himself.

 

Nat chose the moment when he started to toy with the edge of his favorite blanket to speak up in English:

“So, Tony.”

Clint just said nothing, there was no point. She knew. Suddenly, though, he wasn’t so eager to talk about this anymore.

Nat wasn’t having that.

 

“C’mon now, you drained my best vodka, now you gotta spill.” She poked him in the side, and something inside of the archer gave way and he started talking. About. Everything.

 

When he was finished, Nat gave a thoughtful nod, before replying in her usual dry tone:

 

“What a shocker.”

 

“You drop sarcasm on me right now?!”

 

“You weren’t being subtle about it.”

 

“And you’re not being helpful right now.”

 

Instead of dignifying that with an answer, Nat stretched and ruffled her hair, like she always did right before she’d hit you with some insights that she gained ages ago while you were still tapping in the dark.

 

“Have you considered just… talking to him about it?”

 

“Are you mad?!” Clint actually freed himself from the remains of her embrace, to throw his arms in the air in an exasperated fashion.

“That’s just not happening. No. No way.”

 

“Because…?”

 

“He’s Tony Stark.”

 

“Right. We’ve established that already.”

 

Silence. “You know that’s not an actual reason, right?”

 

Sigh. “You don’t understand. He’s-“ Clint made a vague hand gesture- “And I’m-“ another vague hand gesture.

 

“Honey, you’re drunk. You’re not making any sense.”

 

“Naaat” definitely not a whine. He was actually very bloody hammered. “He can do better than, you know, an idiot like me. He’s like super-rich, and super-handsome, and super-smart, and ‘m not super-anything.”

A moment of consideration. “Super-baggage, perhaps.”

 

The spy frowned, Clint was pretty damn annoying when he caught himself in one of his self-pity-circles. How someone with such a good heart could think so less of himself, she would never know.

 

“I’m not gonna tell you now that that’s not true, that you’re great and whatnot, because you already _know_ that if you’d stop being a fucking wuss for two minutes. But-”

 

Clint lend heavily against her again, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to her body-warmth. He was feeling drowsy and Nat was reassuringly familiar.

 

“For clarification, we’re actually talking about the guy who sometimes pours coffee into his cereal?”

 

The archer mumbled something unintelligible. Only a few seconds later, he was dozing off, resting his head on her shoulder.

 

“You’re an idiot, **Лапушка** **(Ru: darling),“ Nat whispered affectionately, while carding her fingers through her friend’s tussled hair.**

Careful, not to disturb him, she fished her phone out of her trouser pocket and texted Steve. Seems like Tony and Clint were both idiots. Idiots that definitely needed a little help.

 

 

 

A day later, Clint was hang-over-free and in a gloomy mood. He had been so silly, so over-dramatic about the whole ‘in-love-thing’, although it was so painfully clear that if he just didn’t do anything about it, worst-case-scenario wouldn’t occur. He could be an adult about this.

 

This is why he was, very maturely, avoiding all public space in the Tower, to not risk running into Tony. He was sure, if he just waited a little while longer, Tony would forget about the whole thing. And they could act like it never happened and carry on with their friendship.

Master. Plan.

 

Nat asking him to take a training session in the gym was a welcome distraction. Tony never visited the gym. A safe zone.

 

His friend seemed pretty fucking ecstatic when they walked down the corridor- which in hindsight, should have made the archer very suspicious. Nat usually only was ecstatic when she was plotting something.

And plot she did.

 

Clint realized the moment he’d been played, when Steve was shoving a very confused- now behold! - Tony Stark into the gym, who looked like he spent the last day living off of motor oil and granola bars.

 

Clint had another second to protest, when the spy- cheerfully- slammed the door right in his face.

 

“You two work it out, honey!” She shouted through the door, in her sweetest sing-song-voice.

 

“C’mon! Who made this shit plan?!”

 

“Me!” Steve replied equally cheery.

 

Clint groaned and hit his head against the cold metal with a quiet ‘thud’. Things he didn’t need in his life right now: His friends fucking playing cupid. By locking him in the same room with Tony. As the footsteps receded, he was suddenly hyper-aware of the other person in the room with him. Tony’s eyes were burning on his back and he wanted to disappear, but he also (annoyingly) wanted to look at him.

He had missed Tony when he was away.

More than he cared to admit to himself.

 

And Tony was right here.

 

The door wasn’t actually locked, he could leave at any point. But… did he… want to? Nat was right. They should probably just… talk about it. Get it over quick, like ripping off a band-aid. Once it was out in the open, they could get over it. Tony was his friend. Tony had been vulnerable in front of him. It was only fair that Tony would know one of his secrets too, right? It wasn’t _that_ big of a deal. Just his… stupid…heart.

 

“Care to elaborate what all this is about?” Tony’s voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in a couple of hours. It felt warm and intimate.

 

Tony was in his personal space now, Clint could feel his presence somewhere near his back. C’mon… like a band-aid….

 

“Tones-“ The archer turned away from the wall and his voice abruptly left him when he got a good look at Tony for the first time in five days. Sweat-pants and a tank-top littered with oil stains. Tousled hair. Beard longer than usual. Attentive eyes. Bare feet.

All his courage left him in a swift exhale.

 

“Wanna spar?” Way to fucking go, coward.

 

The engineer raised one eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Since I’m already down here.”

 

 

Tony might not be as athletic as him or Nat, but Clint had to admit he was pretty fit for a guy who spend most of their fights inside a full-automatic metal suit. They were sparring for some twenty-odd minutes, Tony sending him suspicious glances every now and then, but not saying anything about it. It wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen when you’re living with the Avengers, after all.

 

Clint, on the other hand, on equal parts tried to work up the courage to just say it, and not to stare like a fucking creep at the ripple of Tony’s muscles or the exposed skin.

Tony had really nice arms, strong and defined- worker arms, with rough, skilled hands. His skin had a pleasant tan in the warm gym light, with a dusting of black hair along the expanse of his limps. Tony looked _good_ , even though his attire suggested that he had holed himself up in the workshop and probably didn’t shower that day.

Not that Clint minded, every time he got close enough that his nose would catch the earthy smell of Tony’s sweat. It reminded him of the time they danced- and he really shouldn’t be thinking about this right now, not when he was a man on a plan (ha), and the plan wasn’t daydreaming about Tony’s body.

 

 

Right. Talking. Words.

He could do words.

 

“How was the trip?” Good start.

 

“Boring. As usual. Most people bore me.” Tony huffed a bit and dodged Clint’s kick in the general direction of his chest.

 

Alright, then. “Sorry.”

 

The engineer gave him an unreadable look, before he locked Clint’s right arm in a tight grip. Usually, that wouldn’t have happened. Tony must be aware of this, too. Usually, he didn’t stand a chance against Clint’s reflexes. “You don’t, though.” But Clint was distracted.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Don’t act all surprised, Birdie. You’re an interesting one.” Flirty Smirk #3tm appeared on Tony’s face.

 

Right. Nobody said it would be easy.

“I’m not sure I deserve that kind of attention. I’m not… special. Well, not in the positive sense, at least.”

 

The archer freed himself out of the grip with a casual backflip.

 

“Come again?” Tony was in his personal space in a split second, now locking Clint’s torso in something that could be a hug, if they wouldn’t be sparring right now.

The archer felt his heart hammer in his chest at the notion but played it off as exhaustion by taking two very pronounced breaths. Tony probably wasn’t buying it.

 

“You know, I’m bit of a fuck-up, really.”

 

The grip around his chest disappeared (Clint pretended not to miss it), instead, the billionaire spun him around, so that they were face-to-face.

He didn’t look amused at all.

 

“Oh, yes, tell the raging alcoholic with the crippling PTSD all about how _you_ ’re the fucked-up one,” he snarled without any heat, before pushing Clint backwards, with enough force that the archer struggled for a couple of seconds to keep his balance.

 

Clint was absolutely garbage at this whole sparring thing today, and he could tell that Tony was getting impatient. It didn’t take an idiot to see that ‘spar’ clearly wasn’t the reason why they were both gathered in the gym.

 

“Don’t, Tony.”

 

“Don’t, Clint,” Tony parroted very maturely. He casually rubbed away the droplets of sweat that had gathered on his forehead and let out a long, deep breath.

 

“What are you even talking about?” The tone was nonchalant, but there was a keen sharpness in the engineer’s eyes.

 

Clint pretended to dust his clothes off, so he wouldn’t have to face the critical gaze.

“You know. Uneducated moron. Former assassin. Idiot who’s even talking about this kind of stuff? Bit of a mess, really.”

 

 

The statement hung in the air between them for some seconds, before several things happened at once: Clint made the executive decision that this whole thing was just stupid and turned to leave, Tony grabbed his arm and tugged, having him pinned to the training mat in seconds, and holding his wrists in a firm grip.

 

“Would you stop with the self-degrading bullshit?” he hissed, face very close to Clint’s face. “There is _nothing_ wrong with you, you’re a wonderful person, who’s just too _daft_ for his own good.”

 

Despite the aggressive tone in which the words were spoken, Clint’s stomach suddenly whirled with stupid excited emotions. That Tony was practically hovering above him in a very compromising position didn’t really help matters.

What had his plan been again?

 

“You can’t mean that,” his voice was too soft and breathy, almost betraying that hurricane of emotions that he was trying hi hardest to keep in.

It was harder than it should be to not just scream ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, OKAY?!’ right into Tony’s stupid gorgeous face.

 

 

Tony sighed dramatically letting go of Clint’s wrists and sitting up.

 

“Katniss, you’re fucking frustrating! Here I am, trying to flirt you out of your self-loathing-“

 

“Don’t.”

 

“What now?”

 

Tony eyed him critically, while he made an effort to prob himself up on one elbow and act like he wasn’t about to spill his heart out. He had never spilled his heart out in front of anybody; anybody that wasn’t Nat, at least. And with Tony… it was all very exciting and very, very terrifying.

 

“Don’t flirt.”

 

 

The engineer honest to God blinked owlishly for some seconds, he obviously didn’t see that coming. Clint couldn’t blame him, he didn’t either.

 

“Oh my God, I just don’t _get_ you. I thought we had something going before this stupid meeting and now you’re avoiding me-“

 

“Because you don’t mean it,” It was out before he could stop himself. No tuning back now. “You just flirt. I don’t… listen, this is fucking embarrassing, alright?”

 

The archer focused on a spot on his t-shirt and pretended to rub it, just to seem busy and casual. He was failing miserably.

He felt Tony’s eyes on him; all warm and analyzing, and now again full of something _soft_ …

 

 

“Don’t tell me what I mean and don’t mean. You obviously don’t know.”

 

And there it was again, that stupid hope. Clint went into this thing (or more accurately: was pushed into this thing) with the intention to share his secret to _overcome_ it, not to indulge in the thought of dating Tony Stark.

Said Tony Stark lend his back against his legs- warm, and heavy, and strong- and tilted his head, until – if Clint was to look up- he would look right at him.

Silence stretched between them again.

Clint was feeling nervous. Tony was feeling agitated.

 

Somebody had to break the spell.

 

“Alright, enough of this skirting around. Facts on the table.”

 

 Tony’s hand suddenly appeared as a warm presence on Clint’s thigh. He knew the gesture was meant to be reassuring, but it only served to freak him out even more, worried that Tony could feel his nerves right through the gentle touch.

Clint swallowed against the lump that was suddenly forming in his throat, and tried to bring his racing thoughts in order again.

Tony wanted to know the truth.

He could lie.

But Tony would be able to tell, and then Tony would be disappointed.

Tony was his friend.

He didn’t want Tony to just be his friend.

 

 

Clint squeezed his eyes shut.

He was fucking doing it.

 

“I like you.”

 

There it was. His secret. Out in the open, for Tony to see. A heavy weight lifted itself off his shoulders, at the same time as a sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

How would Tony react?

Would he be angry? Bemused? Patronizing?

Would he still want to be Clint’s friend after this?

Ever scenario Clint imagined for this situation came crushing down on him and he faintly thought that he might vomit or pass out.

 

He heard Tony take a breath, part his lips and- finally-speak the words that would determine in which direction this shit-show would escalate-

 

 

“I like you, too. Continue.”

 

….

…

..

Clint was fairly sure something inside his brain broke. Of all the things, he did not see that one coming. That was just the… most unlikely outcome yet it…it happened?!

Now he was pretty sure he was going to vomit, for reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend.

 

Tony, always the savior, realized Clint was starting to hyperventilate, and quickly searched the archer’s face, grounding him with some solid eye-contact.

Clint looked like someone had slapped him in the face.

Tony knew he shouldn’t grin in such a situation, but Clint’s expression was just priceless.

 

 “Aw, c’mon now, _that_ was it? I thought I’d done something wrong, I talked Pep’s ears off the whole trip!”

 

He pushed Clint’s shoulder playfully but left the reassuring hand on his thigh.

Hearing those words, Clint finally shut his mouth with a click, annoyed at being made fun while having such a _groundbreaking_ moment.

This means that there was a _possibility_ that he could _date_ Tony Stark; and Tony was just taking the piss about it.

 

“Stop acting like this is not a big deal,” he snarled, before sending Tony lying on his back with a well-placed movement of his legs and sitting on his chest for good measure. He glared right at the stupid grin and knew he was being kind of ridiculous, but this was bloody important to him, and Tony was having way too much fun with this.

 

“Because it isn’t!”

Now deeply offended, Clint jammed a finger against Tony’s chest. Tony might say that he liked him (TONY. LIKED. HIM.), but he was acting like the whole confession was some sort of joke. Clint felt wounded and unsure- maybe Tony was just playing around?

 

 

“Yeah, alright, bad phrasing.”

Tony caught the finger and help it against his chest, right above his heart. The action was sudden and intimate, and Clint was suddenly very aware of the whole situation they were in, and what it means to believe in those words.

He could be with Tony.

Because Tony _liked_ him.

 

“Seriously, Clint, c’mon now. I practically courted you, and you thought I was just being nice? When did I ever be ‘just nice’? That never happened.”

 

Tony was smirking in his ‘you’re kind of a dumbass but you’re being cute about it’ kind of way, and Clint wanted to kiss him.

Which he could.

If Tony liked him, which he did.

His heart leaped, while his brain was still having trouble understanding that this was really happening.

A small noise escaped him that sounded somewhere between a groan and a soft whine. His whole fucking body was shaking now, and he felt like he was seconds away from losing consciousness.

Strong arms encircled him and pulled, until he was laying flat against a broad chest, his head tugged securely in the crook of Tony’s neck.

The combination of warmth and closeness and Tony’s smell calmed his racing heart, until his heartbeat thrummed in sync to Tony’s own.

 

 

“You’re a daft git,” Tony mumbled affectionately, and started to run his greasy fingers through Clint’s hair. Clint didn’t mind.

 

The archer chuckled wetly against Tony’s neck.

“I like the pet-names. Keep ‘em coming,” his voice still quivered from being overwhelmed with the turn of events.

 

 

“Fucking finally, you’re back! Dealing with shy!Clint is tricky.”

 

“Only because you’re an insensitive brute. Honestly, you why didn’t you tell me anything? I was practically sick with nerves for days!”

 

“They call me iron man for a reason.”

 

“More like iron dick.”

 

Clint finally felt confident enough to look up from his hiding place and was greeted with a very sly looking Tony Stark.

Fucking gorgeous Tony Stark.

Fucking funny, and generous, and wonderful Tony Stark.

_His_ fucking Tony Stark.

“Don’t you dare.” Clint felt his own grin tugging at his lips.

He only now began to realize what it would mean to date his best friend. The thought alone made him _giddy_.

 

“No?” Tony asked bemused, before he pulled Clint closer, until their faces were just hovering inches apart.

Clint’s breath hitched at their close proximity.

 

“Ever since that movie night, I’ve been thinking about you. There’s something about you that’s just…. You drive me crazy. I didn’t want a relationship after Afghanistan, I thought I could never trust anyone enough to let them near, let them _see_ me. But I want you to see me. I just… huh, I guess you’re right, Legolas, it is kind of embarrassing to talk about these things out loud… when you’re with me, things are just alright, you know? And I don’t usually know the feeling of safety, there’s always something nagging in the back of my head, but with you… it’s peaceful. Feels like I’m coming home and c’mon, Clint, say something or do something before I continue to vomit all this sentimental shit all over the both of us, we technically aren’t even dating _yet_ and I’m already confessing all sorts of deep emotional stuff-honestly, I can’t stop talking once I’ve started-“

 

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world, as easy as breathing, Clint inches closer to finally kiss that impossible man he’s in love with-

 

As the alarm to assemble starts.

 

Clint groans pitifully and pushes his head against Tony’s chest, burying his face in the soft cotton. Out of all the things that could ruin the perfect moment…!

 

He feels Tony’s deep chuckle against his face, and it’s intimate and familiar and beautiful. He never wants to stop hearing it.

 

“Up we go, Katniss.”

 

Reluctantly, Clint rises and pulls Tony with him. The engineer places his arms around the archer’s waist and squeezes reassuringly.

 

“There’s no rushing these things,” he leaves a tiny peck in the corner of Clint’s mouth- not yet a kiss out a promise for more.

 

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay!!!! 
> 
> But the chapter is here now, yay me.
> 
> If you guys enjoy it, leave a comment/kudos/bookmark to let me know <3


	6. Plus One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter y'all!  
> Whoop Whoop, kissing time!

Shooting off another arrow in the general direction of the threat, Clint couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said, right before they left the gym.

 

 _We’ve got all the time in the world_.

 

How curious and how strange it was that there was someone who would want to spend so much time with him. How curious and how strange it was that this someone was Tony Stark, of all people.

 

Clint had been so sure that he had been in love before, that he knew what to do about it. But the very few and very scarce experiences were nothing compared to this. If this was being in love and (more importantly) having your love reciprocated felt like, Clint was pretty damn sure that he never had been in love before.

He spent so much time worrying and trying to fall out of love, that he now was completely unprepared for the next possible steps. He deemed it so unlikely that he didn’t even consider the possibilities. Now Tony fucking _liked_ him, and all the possibilities came crushing down at him at once.

 

How was he supposed to concentrate on saving the city when all he could think about were all the things that he could do to Tony or the things Tony could do to him?

 

Would he kiss Clint after this? Would Lily be happy about the developments? Would they come out officially as a couple? Would they start sharing a bed?

 

Would they… do things on the bed?

 

 

His mind drifted- slowly but steadily- in a very certain direction. What would Tony be like? Slow and gentle or always the show-off, even in such an intimate situation? Would he take the lead or let himself be led? If the rumors were true, Tony was a very, very, _very_ experienced lover. Clint shuddered a little just imagining being able to… investigate those assumptions.

He made his own experiences in his youth, but they were usually purely carnal pleasure, an animalistic seeking for those moments of bliss. It’s been a while, especially since Lily came into his life.

Would Tony be able to tell? He suddenly wondered. And instantly feels insecure. The thing was, compare to Tony, he was pretty much inexperienced.

‘What if Tony doesn’t like that? I’m a man in my thirties and I don’t even know what it feels like to have sex with a person I care about. Worse, the very person is this presumed sex God and I’m gonna mess this up, considering I get a boner just _looking_ at Tony; oh _great_ this is just-‘

 

 

“Head in the game, Robin Hood.” The mechanic voice of iron man over his intercom woke the archer from the hysteric chaos in his mind. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Here’s not the time nor the place. Not when actual chaos is running havoc.

 

 

 

The fight had been short but intense. The Avengers worked in perfect unison to corner the enemies. They were a fucking amazing team, but Clint still felt his concentration slipping whenever he heard the soft sounds of Iron Man’s engines above him.

Tony was _impeccable_ in battle. Steve might act like Tony’s a rascal, always off to do his own thing; but regardless of him not always sticking to the plan, he got the job done. His decisions were always tactical, although risky, and he got to the results that Cap’s plans sometimes fall short of. His movements might seem random, but they weren’t, and Clint was _fascinated_ by that, he was fascinated how effortless Tony managed to save the day every fucking time.

 

 

He was so fascinated, that he was getting careless. Running on autopilot was a skill he acquired early on as an assassin; it used to be easier for his mental health’s sake to mentally detach himself from some situations and just let his body handle it on its own.

This, however, was a battle. He should at least pay attention. But he didn’t.

 

The fight was already over. It was a last weak attempt. But he didn’t pay attention. So, it got him.

Before he can even comprehend what had happened he is already falling from the impact of the projectile fired at him. It didn’t hurt him, it bounced right off his bullet-proof west. But he was falling out of the tree that he was located in. He wouldn’t die from that fall. He probably wouldn’t even break a bone. The point is that he was falling, because he was being careless.

Bracing himself for the impact, Clint closed in on himself.

 

The impact, however, never came.

Instead, Tony did.

 

 

“No falling out of trees under my watch, princess.”

 

Tony had caught him, easily, in his arms. Well, Iron Man’s arms. Clint’s heart was racing from the sudden adrenaline rush and he was really fucking glad Tony caught him. He was a _trained_ Shield agent- for crying out loud!- who just fell out of a tree because he didn’t pay attention. Rookie mistake.

But that’s alright. He allowed himself a little leeway, after all his life had changed drastically not even an hour before they went off to this fight. He allowed himself to be a little out of it in moments where it wasn’t that important. Tony seemed to have a different opinion on the matter.

 

 

“You gotta be more careful, you knight in shining armor can’t always be there to save your ass.”

 

Underneath the cheeky remark laid a tone of real concern that warmed Clint’s heart. The situation had been far away from dangerous, but Tony still had been concerned about his well-being. Gently, Iron man set Clint to his feet.

The others were already jogging over for the debriefing, but before they could reach them, Clint placed his hand briefly over the place of the armor where he knew Tony’s heart was.

 

“I’m sorry, Tones,” he spoke softly and heard a small huff from the inside of the armor.

 

 

Only just then he realized what it would mean to have Tony caring for him in such a great fashion. It would mean goodbye-kisses and checking-in text messages and quiet conversations before and after missions, and the promise that Tony would look out for him if he needed him to. For the first time in his life, Clint realized that with Tony by his side, he could let go a little. Give over control. Let Tony take care of him. Of things. Because he could trust Tony. Because Tony would never hurt him. Because Tony _liked_ him.

 

Clint was overcome by a very powerful emotion and only barely pulled himself together to appear calm and collected during the debriefing (staring love-struck at the iron man armor when he thought nobody was looking didn’t count).

 

He was silly for worrying about the whole inexperience thing. He would tell Tony and Tony would understand and be wonderful about it. And Clint, when he was being honest with himself, longed for the guidance and comfort that Tony’s experience had to offer, he wanted to just let go and let himself be lead by Tony in whichever direction they would go; because he could trust Tony to take good care of him and to be understanding and caring and just everything that was _good_. Sex could be more than just two bodies slapping together. Sex with Tony would be more; so much more.

 

 

“Good work everybody, off we go!” Clint jumped when Steve clapped him on the shoulder in his patented ‘Proud Team Leader’- fashion and his face went scarlet, because he had been fantasizing about doing the dirty with Tony instead of listening to a single word of the undoubtful motivational Captain America speech.

Burning with embarrassment, Clint was the last one the hop into the jet, which had already started hovering above ground, Nat easily maneuvering the machine and Bruce beside her in the co-pilot-seat.

 

 

To Clint’s surprise, Tony was in the jet, too. Usually, Iron Man preferred to fly on his own back from a mission, presumably to blow off some leftover steam. Not this time. This time, Tony choose another method to ‘blow off some steam’.

 

The minute the doors closed behind Clint and the jet took off, Tony was out of his suit in a flash- dressed in a band-shirt and black skinny jeans- came over to Clint in three big strides and threw the surprised archer against the wall of the jet.

 

Clint didn’t have a second to comprehend what the hell was going on, when he was lifted and pressed roughly against the cold metal; the vibrations of the engine making the skin on his back tingle. Two strong arms hoisted him up, and practically pinned him against the hard surface; the spy reflexively closed his legs around Tony’s waist.

Tony was all up in his personal space now; sweaty and warm, still smelling faintly of motor oil and fire and Clint realized that it was hard to breathe, with Tony so close to him. From his position, he could feel every ripple of muscle, every sharp intake of breath, every sign that Tony was right there- alive and fucking ravenous.

The way Tony dominated him easily made Clint slightly dizzy; this was another side of Tony Stark that he had never seen before and he _loved_ it.

 

 

“Tony-“

 

 

Whatever he tried to articulate was lost between them, because Tony didn’t waste another opportunity and pressed their lips together hungrily.

 

_Rough lips. Faint scratch of the goatee. Intoxicating. Addicting._

_Coffee. Salted Caramel. Tony._

_Lips moving together. Easy as breathing_.

 

 _Falling_. _Tongue. Teeth, nipping_.

 

 _Free falling_.

 

 _Hands, exploring. Flying_.

 

_Passion. Drunk on being in love; Drunk on TONY._

_My_

_God._

_Tony…_

 

When they parted for air, Clint’s head was spinning. He was hyperaware of every point of contact their bodies made, every exhale passing Tony’s lips directly into his mouth. He was shaking like a blushing virgin, but he couldn’t help himself, Tony was fucking excellent at this, and he was pretty much _undone_ just from a single kiss.

Tony grinned at him warmly- because of course he was aware that he was a fucking excellent kisser- and Clint let his head fall against the wall, closing his eyes; helplessly breathing; trying to regain control over his body. Everything was warm and tingly and if he didn’t know better, he might even think that he _came_ the moment Tony started kissing him (he didn’t, because he was hyperaware of his now interested cock pressed against Tony’s stomach).

His skilled lover didn’t let this opportunity go to waste and attacked the now exposed throat before him with vigor. Clint let out a startled whimper when he was being assaulted in the best kind of ways-

 

In front of his whole team.

 

 

Well.

 

 

Suddenly, he remembered where he was and who he was with and his eyes flew open. He was met with Steve’s famous ‘approving but very embarrassed about this situation’ expression. Peter had started clapping enthusiastically, but upon realizing nobody would join in, he stopped immediately and pretended it never happened. Bruce looked adorably confused, while Nat didn’t even waste a glance in their direction.

 

Instead, she sighing fondly: “Do you _mind_? I’m landing this thing in literarily three minutes; two if we don’t count dropping Parker off.”

 

Tony, ever the gentleman, didn’t even stop his handywork on Clint’s neck, flipped her off. “Fuck you.”

 

“By the looks of it, somebody else is getting fucked.”

 

“Nobody fucks on the jet!”

 

“Language, Rogers, there is a minor present.”

 

“Tony-“ Steve starts, now annoyed with his friend’s insufferable behavior. The billionaire just sighed.

 

“Relax, Captain Underpants. Nothing naughty on the jet. Pinky promise.”

 

“Seriously, am I the _only one_ surprised by this outcome?! I need to spend more time outside of the lab….”

 

 

 

The second the elevator doors closed behind them, Tony was kissing Clint again. He refused to set his archer down, he was still holding him securely, pressing him against the mirrored side of the elevator. Clint was nice and heavy in his arms- a solid weight, heat radiating off his skin. His hardness rested trapped between them, a physical reminder of the effect Tony has on the person he could call ‘his’. He almost forgot how intoxicating it felt. There were different emotions bubbling in his veins; passion and possessiveness; and a tiny bit concern and anger, which helped to fuel this sudden outburst of sexual energy. Clint had been fucking careless and that had made him fucking pissed, because Clint was _his_ and the prospect of him getting hurt was unbearable.

 

 

The moments leading up to them entering Tony’s floor went by Clint in a blur. Tony was skillfully providing an array of sensation that Clint couldn’t do more than breathe and let it happen, clinging to the engineers toned body like a drowning man. He vaguely registered being thrown on the couch, before his partner (oh my God, because that’s what Tony _was_ now) covered his body with his own.

 

 

“Tony-“ he tried, but the sentence was lost when the billionaire slammed their lips together again.

 

 

The tone in Clint’s voice almost made Tony loose all resemblance of control, but he knew he had to pull himself together. Nothing good came with rushing the sexual component in a relationship, and they didn’t even establish the basic terms yet. And he knew that Clint wouldn’t want it to happen like that: High on post-fight adrenaline.

 

So, he slowed the movement of his lips down, no longer pressing them together wetly, but caressing Clint’s lower lip with the rough skin of his upper lip. The archer sighed contently into his mouth. Pleased that his assumption was correct, Tony supported his weight on the armrest, giving Clint more room to move freely.

 

 

Clint looked up at him with a million-dollar-smile plastered on his face, cheeks reddened and lips well-kissed. The engineer felt his heart warm.

 

“Not that I’m complaining, but where did _that_ come from?”

 

Idly, Clint started drawing patterns on Tony’s stomach, too high on endorphins to be self-consciousness about his actions. Tony made it pretty damn clear that he wanted Clint as much as Clint wanted him, so it would be _fine_. Everything would be fine.

 

 

“I could have lost you today.”

 

“You’re being overdramatic. It was a small tree.”

 

“Not the point.”

 

The agent arched an eyebrow. “What’s the point, then?”, he challenged.

 

“That you’re mine. And you’re not getting hurt if I can prevent it.”

 

 

Clint stopped. Sure, it was kind of the logical direction where this whole thing was heading; an exclusive relationship. Still _hearing_ those words did something to him that he hadn’t been prepared for. Tony Stark, the most desired bachelor in the whole country, charming playboy and seducer par excellence; the guy who could _pick_ a lover from the circles of the rich, the famous, the beautiful and the smartest elites of the _world_ was hovering above him on a worn-down leather couch, talking about going steady.

It was….

…

..

Really FUCKING amazing.

 

Tony looked at him with that soft expression, his hair falling into his eyes from crooking his head down. Clint reached up to tuck a strand away from Tony’s eyes and rested his hand against the strong jawbone.

 

“I’d like that,” he said softly around a lump in his throat.

 

“Yeah?” Tony asked (like there had been a possibility that _Clint_ could turn _Tony_ down, which was just mind-boggling for the archer), turning his head and kissing the palm of Clint’s hand.

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

“We should… we should talk about this. I want to do this proper. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

 

Clint wanted to reply that Tony wouldn’t, because Tony was wonderful in his eyes. But he knew that the statement would fall on deaf ears- Tony didn’t have the best track record with relationships before Afghanistan and his self-conscious suffered in unrepairable ways after it.

There was so much about Tony to uncover- and undoubtedly not everything would be pretty. But Clint had his own share of baggage that Tony as a partner would have to deal with as well.

He was right.

They shouldn’t rush this.  

This was very important. This was everything Clint secretly hoped for the first moment he realized that he had a crush on Tony. This was the best-case-scenario.

 

“Let’s make it work, then. Together.”

 

“Yeah. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO much for loving this story the way you do, it means a lot.
> 
> Stay tuned for the future, there's so much more I have planned for the Avengers family <3
> 
> Kudos and Comments and Bookmarks are appreciated!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Look who's BACK :D 
> 
> Updates will happen regularly (no, really!)
> 
> Lily's my OC, show her some love! 
> 
> Kudos, Comments, and Bookmarks are appreciated <3 <3


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